She thinks I’m a hero, Shane thought, pacing his room the next morning. A knight in shining armor. He shook his head. She sure is mistaken! Why, if Gramps was still alive, he’d laugh till his sides ached. Brave champion, his “ne’er-do-well” grandson? Ha!
Pausing, he glanced out the window at the sunshine beating down on the building next door. He had to admit, part of him longed to live up to Elsa’s expectations, but the other part wondered if it were even possible. A guy like him?
A knock on the door interrupted his musings. Crossing the room, Shane answered it.
“Young Shane, vill you come up to da attic vis me und help me find dose receipts?”
“Um … sure.” He gave the older man a quick once-over glance, and decided he looked weary—even more than weary. He looked like he hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since Shane arrived. “On second thought, Uncle Arne, why don’t we take a little break from our searching?”
“But I thought you ver growing restless und vanted to find da vouchers from your vater.”
“I am, but …” Shane smiled easily. “Look, tomorrow is Easter Sunday. Why don’t we just wait until Monday to continue our search? We’ll give ourselves a couple of days of rest and, who knows, maybe if you’re not thinking so hard on this matter, you’ll remember where you put those miserable things.”
“Ja, ja … maybe if I don’t think so hard …”
“Give your mind a bit of relaxation.”
“Ja, I think you are right, young Shane.” The old man’s lined face split into a grin. “How about some breakfast?”
“Now there’s an offer I won’t pass up.”
Grabbing his hat, Shane followed Arne down the narrow stairwell and into the dining common. Several men, river-faring men, judging from their unkempt appearances, were on their way out. Shane nodded politely, and then a wave of anxiety got the best of him, and he made a beeline straight for the kitchen.
“Elsa, are you all right?” he asked, both hands on either side of the doorjamb. His heart suddenly thundered in his chest.
She turned, a pot in her hands, a dishtowel slung over her shoulder. “I’m fine,” she answered, wearing a curious frown. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
“I just saw those men leaving.…”
“Ah,” she replied with a knowing look in her blue eyes. “Not to worry, Shane. I don’t think the men from the docks will be getting fresh with me any time soon. I believe word of what took place last Thursday has made the rounds.”
“Glad to hear it,” Shane said, although he wasn’t completely assuaged.
“Vhat is going on?” Arne asked, sauntering to the kitchen doorway.
Shane pivoted to face the elderly man. “Uncle Arne, you just can’t leave Elsa unattended when there’s a pack of men in the dining common. It isn’t safe.”
“Oh, Elsa can handle herself,” Arne stated confidently. “She vill take her cast-iron frying pan und go … bonk! right over der heads.”
“Carrying those pots she’s going to have arms like a man!” Shane placed one hand on Arne’s shoulder and gave it a mild shake. “Look, Uncle Arne, she’s a woman, and you need to protect her.”
“I do protect her like any gute vater!” Arne said, his voice raised in self-defense. “But you, young Shane, have overstepped your bounds. How I care for my family is none uf your business.”
“Papa—”
“No, Elsa, he’s right,” Shane replied, staring down into Arne’s faded blue eyes. “I overstepped my bounds. My apologies, Sir.”
With that, he donned his hat and left the boardinghouse. Outside, the sunshine felt warm against his face, and Shane decided if he had even a lick of common sense, he’d set sail on the next packet going anywhere. By staying in Hickory Corners, he was getting involved in all sorts of messes, none of them having to do with his sole purpose for being here—claiming his inheritance.
Strolling up Main Street, Shane had just passed the dress shop when he glimpsed none other than Mr. Quinsy leaving the shipping office. The small-framed, thin man started in his direction, and Shane felt sure Henry was on his way to the boardinghouse to see Elsa.
And it’s none of my business, he told himself. As Henry neared, Shane inclined his head politely.
“Good morning, Mr. Gerhard. It’s a lovely day, isn’t it?”
“Sure is.”
“My throat is so much better … did you notice how clear my voice sounds?”
“Uh … yes. Sounds infinitely clearer.”
“I no longer croak like a frog.” Henry laughed.
Shane forced a perfunctory smile.
“Say, did you recently come from the boardinghouse?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Was Elsa there?”
“Sure was.”
“Good. I hope she’ll be ready to leave on time. I just hate being late for social functions.”
“Oh?” Shane arched an inquiring brow. “What social function are you referring to?”
“Why, the Spring Fling, of course. I promised Elsa I’d take her if I felt well enough. Seeing as I do, I thought I might walk up now and break the good news to her ahead of time. The Spring Fling doesn’t officially begin until one o’clock.”
“Glad you’re on the mend,” Shane replied, wondering if Elsa would be the one doing the “breaking”—breaking off their betrothal, that is. After all, she had said she’d decided against marrying poor ol’ Mr. Quinsy.
“Have a good day,” Henry said, continuing on with his trek to the boardinghouse.
“And it’s none of my business,” Shane muttered, ambling off in the opposite direction. However, the farther away he got, the more uneasy he became. What if Elsa couldn’t get herself to relay her decision to Henry? Naw, that wouldn’t happen. Elsa possessed a lot of gumption. Of course, she had a soft side to her also—the side that put up with the likes of Shane Gerhard. The side that thought he was a hero.
Against his better judgment, Shane turned around and walked back to the boardinghouse. Entering, he found Arne sitting at the greeting counter.
“Young Shane, I am sorry I lost my temper,” he stated, looking sincere.
“Quite all right. Now I know where Elsa gets it!”
“Vhat?” The old man frowned, looking confused.
“Never mind.” Shane chuckled. “Apology accepted. But, if you’ll excuse me …” He glanced around the dining common. “Where did Elsa and Henry go?”
“Out in da back, I think. But, young Shane, dey are having a private talk just da two uf dem.”
“Right. I’m aware of that. I just thought maybe Elsa might like some support, you know? Encouragement.”
Arne grinned, causing the wrinkles on his face to multiply. “You are fond uf my Elsa, ja?”
“Ja,” Shane admitted, although he wished it wasn’t true. The feelings he’d developed for Elsa only complicated matters.
“She is fond uf you, too,” Arne said.
“So I’ve gathered.”
Just then, booted footfalls sounded from the kitchen, through the dining room, and Shane turned in time to see Henry marching for the front door. The man’s overall expression registered nothing, although Shane saw the grim slant of his thin lips.
Without a single word, Mr. Quinsy left.
“See,” Arne said, “my Elsa alvays knows vhat to say.”
Sitting outside the kitchen door on the back stoop, Elsa felt horrid. She’d crushed poor Henry by stating she had changed her mind—she couldn’t marry him. He’d looked so forlorn and disappointed. Nevertheless, he didn’t try to talk her out of her decision. In fact, he never even said he loved her. In her heart, Elsa knew she’d done the right thing … for the both of them.
Suddenly, she sensed the presence of someone standing behind her. Tipping her head back, she stared up at Shane, who appeared as tall as an elm from her present viewpoint.
He grinned down at her. “Want some company?”
She righted her bearing, nodded, and scooted over to make room for him on the stoop.
“I saw Mr. Quinsy on his way out,” he said, taking a seat beside her. “I take it you broke off your engagement.”
Elsa nodded.
“Are you sorry?”
“No, only that I’m sorry I hurt Henry.”
“He’ll get over it.”
Elsa had to grin at the piquant reply.
“So, um … would you care to attend the Spring Fling with me this afternoon?” She turned and gazed into his face, expecting to see a sparkle of mischief in his hazel eyes; however, all she saw was the light of sincerity.
“You really want to go?”
“Only if I can take you.”
Elsa smiled and lowered her gaze to the skirt of her brown dress. “I would be honored to accompany you, but just make sure you’re the one who gets my cookie.” Glancing back at him, she added, “You can’t miss it, Shane. It has the initials S. A. G. swirled into the frosting.”
“S. A. G.? Hm, those sound like my initials.”
“They are,” Elsa said, leaning a little bit closer and slipping her hand around his elbow. “I peeked at your signature in our guest book.”
He stared at her for a good half a minute, searching her face as if her countenance held the answer to some mysterious, universal question.
At last, he grinned and looked out over the yard. “Why do I suddenly feel like I’m sinking in quicksand?”
“What?”
Shane shook his head. “Never mind.” He stood, drawing Elsa to her feet. “You just go on and get all pretty for the Spring Fling.”
Smiling, she nodded and reentered the boardinghouse.
Hickory Corners’ annual Spring Fling took place in the one-room schoolhouse across the street from the church on Birch Street. Inside, fabric flowers of all colors decorated the little building, and desserts were lined up on a table, sitting off to one side, enough to satisfy even the Bunk brothers. Shane noticed the Fling drew primarily the unmarried townsfolk. In fact, it seemed to him that this was Mrs. Tidewell’s subtle attempt at matchmaking.
“I’m so glad you decided join us,” the pleasingly plump, downy-haired woman stated upon meeting him for the second time. The first had been at church last Wednesday evening.
“Yes, well, I’m happy to be here.”
It wasn’t a fib either. Truth to tell, Shane couldn’t think of a place he’d rather be at the moment than here with Elsa. In his eyes, she was the belle of the ball with her walnut-colored hair unpinned and cascading to her waist in silky waves. She wore a fitted, lilac blouse and full black skirt, which she said once belonged to her mother. Elsa added that she only wore it on special occasions. He figured the Fling was as “special” as it got in this town, but he decided to quit fighting the inevitable and enjoy himself.
The afternoon began with casual socializing. Shane and Elsa chatted first with Samantha Thomasohn. Her mother wasn’t any better, so Samantha didn’t plan to stay at the Spring Fling for long. Next, they conversed with Betsy Larkin, whose siblings were playing outside in the adjacent school yard, all except the youngest, that is. Three-year-old Greta with her feathery, blond hair and enormous cocoa-brown eyes seemed permanently attached to her older sister’s hip. Awhile later, Shane was introduced to Brady Forbes, the Tidewells’ nephew, and Lars Douglas, an employee at the grist mill up the road. Shane had to admit, the more folks he met in Hickory Corners, the more he liked the place.
After the mingling, they engaged in an organized game of musical chairs, which the men played a second time blind-folded. The young ladies giggled and watched from the back of the schoolhouse as the gents tripped over each other and missed chairs completely, only to land on their backsides on the hard wooden floor. Shane decided he’d be stiff until Tuesday after that little escapade.
Finally, the event everyone had been waiting for—the cookie caper. Shane managed to acquire Elsa’s baked treat, even though he almost had to wrangle it out of Horace Bunk’s meaty paw. As the winner, his reward was sharing Elsa’s boxed supper out on a grassy knoll in the school yard.
As they strolled back to the boardinghouse that evening, Shane had to admit he’d had a fine time. Good clean fun proved surprisingly enjoyable. Turning onto Birch Street, Elsa’s arm looped around his elbow, Shane realized this sleepy little town offered him more than his inheritance could ever buy. Love. Friendship. Respect. Dignity.
They passed the shipping office, and he saw the fretful mar above Elsa’s brow which her bonnet failed to shadow.
“I warned Henry a blackguard might steal his woman if he wasn’t careful.”
“I take it you’re referring to yourself,” Elsa said with a demure, little smile. “But I hardly think of you as a blackguard … and neither does anyone else in Hickory Corners.”
“Just shows how little you all know me.”
“‘There is none righteous,’ Shane, ‘no not one.’ Every man alive has made his share of mistakes.”
Shane wagged his head and chuckled. “Well, Lady, you can’t say I didn’t warn you.”
They paused in front of the boardinghouse, and Elsa peered up at him with questions pooling in her blue eyes. “What does that mean?”
“It means, Miss Elsa Fritch, you’re going to marry me whether your father finds those receipts or not. You see, it just so happens that in two weeks’ time, I’ve fallen in love with you.”